Five Times
by Olivia Dunham
Summary: The five times William Adama has met Laura Roslin. R/A


_I. Hello. _

"What are you doing?"

Will Adama looked up, nearly nailing his head on a low tree branch. He glanced around, finally meeting the eyes of the red haired girl who has to be younger than him, her curiosity written all across her face.

"Building a paper plane." He replied. He knew her from somewhere – it took him a moment until he realized she looked like the older lady at his house earlier, introducing herself as their new neighbor. The girl in front of him must be her daughter, his new neighbor.

"Are you Will?" She asked as he tried to continue to build his plane. He didn't want some girl playing with it. Only him and his father.

"Yah."

"I'm Laura."

_I don't care,_ he half thinks, but doesn't say it. His mother always taught him to be nice, and this is no different, even if it is to a girl who looks like a big know-it-all type. He didn't like those types, and he never had. He continued to focus on his plane, concentrating on getting each crease in the paper just right so it would fly perfectly. Just like his dad had taught him.

"I'm your new neighbor."

He looks up at her, almost wanting to shove her out of the little secluded place in the woods she'd found that she'd apparently discovered.

"I know." Was all he said, looking back down. She huffed, obviously not pleased with him. When he looked back up, her hands were rested on her hips, trying to do her best imitation of her mother when she was getting upset.

"Well? Don't you want to play with me?"

"Do I have to?"

_II. Goodbye._

Music played somewhere in the background, a happy tune as the people jumped out onto the dance floor and danced their hearts out, laughing and drinking. It's a goodbye party, one that Bill didn't want to be at.

"You look depressed."

He looked up – Laura was smiling, and he could have sworn he'd never seen someone more beautiful. She had her hair pinned back for once, and was wearing a sundress, one of the last few chances she'll get to with the approaching fall.

"Because you're leaving." He replied. She smiled slightly, resting her chin on his shoulder. He looked at her, those eyes more than memorizing.

"We'll see each other again, if the Gods allow us."

"And if they don't?"

"They will. And when they do, I'll tell you a special story." She promised, and kissed his cheek, passing him a glass. "Now enjoy yourself. This is my party after all."

"As you wish, Miss. Roslin."

_III. School._

Bill had long since grown up, and married, with two sons of his own now. Zac and Lee. And right now, he wasn't happy with either of them.

"What's this about?"

He had walked into the principal's office to find the two of them in chairs, looking rather beat up. A third kid sat in the corner, looking even worse. Three adults were in the room – the principal, Bill himself, and the dark haired kindergarten teacher behind the principal. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and she looked highly displeased.

He didn't recognize her, but she knows him.

"Mr. Adama, your boys were fighting another in my class." She said, and he turned his attention to her.

"Over what?"

"According to what I've managed to piece together, Jared here said something to Zac and tried to beat him up, but Lee intervened. I had to pull them apart."

Bill shot a glare at the kid in the corner, then looked at his sons, almost wanting to say '_good job'_ because the other kid looked like hell.

"You're here," The woman began again, stepping around the desk to stand in front of him, next to Zac and Lee. "Because your boys are very close to flunking kindergarten."

"You can't flunk them!"

"Oh I can, and I will, Mr. Adama." She said, an air of determinedness around her. "This fighting has got to stop. This is the fourth time this year you've been down here for something like this."

"Then maybe you should keep a better eye on your classroom to make sure some kid isn't bothering my sons."

"Are you saying I can't do my job, Mr. Adama?"

"Maybe that's exactly what I'm saying."

When he left, Laura glares after him – partially for insulting her, but mostly because he hadn't remembered.

_IV. Attack_

This time, he remembers the moment she introduces herself to him. He remembers when she used to be a school teacher; the one he'd nearly threw against the wall for nearly failing his sons.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Commander Adama." She flashed a smile, acting as if they hadn't met before at all.

"The pleasure is mine, Madame President."

She's president now, and he couldn't have been more surprised. He hid it well though, with a perfect smile before excusing himself back to work. Laura knew he remembered that time.

When they meet up in the hallway of Galactica – Laura trying to figure out her way around the ship, him on the way to the hangar bay – all formalities are dropped.

"It's been a while Will."

"It's Bill now, Madame President. And yes, it's been quite a while."

"Bill." She said quietly. "You can call me Laura you know."

"Anything you want, Madame President."

He smirked, excusing himself to return to CIC. Laura stared after him, a small smirk playing at her lips. _Still as difficult as always_.

_V. Afterlife_

When he died, he knew it wouldn't be bad.

He was lying on his death bed not two moments before, but now he was standing in the lobby of a beautiful opera house, slightly confused. He catches hi reflection in one of the tall mirrors on the walls – he's much younger, with no grey streaking his hair, but still dressed in an Admiral uniform. He likes this new look.

"Are you going to stand there all day and admire yourself?"

He looked up – Laura was leaning on the railing of the upper floor, a vision in white. She looks better too – there's actual color to her skin, and she's a vision of white in the dress she has on. As she comes down the stairs to his right, he notices she's barefoot.

"Bill."

"Laura."

She smiled, approaching him and resting a hand on his cheek. "I've missed you."

Instead of replying, he pulled her into a tight hug, pressing his lips to hers, something he's missed himself. There's suddenly loud cheers and whistles, and he pulls back – they aren't alone anyone. Familiar faces surround them, smiling bright and lovely back at them. Laura laughs a sound that's like music to his ears. The deceased members of the Galactica and of New Caprica applaud him, like some hero finally returning home.

He turned, pulling Laura closer and whispering into her ear.

"So how about that story?"


End file.
